The Stepstones. Cutthroat Isle Waters.
"Forward! Slay them!" "Hahaha! Feed them to the sharks!"
With savage cries, the pirates on the Sea Fox launched another frantic assault against the Chainbreaker line. The deck was a charnel house, slick with the gore of attackers who lacked both discipline and cohesion. Most who threw themselves forward met the cold, efficient end of a spear or a fire-hardened stake.
But numbers have a gravity of their own. Under the weight of the relentless, suicidal charges, the Chainbreakers' formation began to groan and buckle.
"For Lord Jon! For the Chainbreakers!" Garo roared, his voice cracking with the strain as he split a pirate's skull with a heavy axe.
ROAR—!
Garo's shout was met by a sound that made his very bones vibrate. It was a metallic, guttural shriek that seemed to come from the sky itself. A massive, ink-black shadow swept over the Sea Fox, momentarily eclipsing the sun.
"What is that?" "A dragon! THE DRAGON!" "Run! Jump for it!" "Am I dreaming? By the gods, save me!"
Panic ignited like wildfire. Men who had been brave enough to face steel a moment ago now stood paralyzed, their bladders failing as they stared at the winged nightmare circling above.
BOOM!
The golden dragon banked sharply, its jaws unhinging to vomit a pillar of white-gold Dragonfire. The heat was instantaneous and absolute. The longships and flat-bottoms clustered against the Sea Fox's port side didn't just burn—they detonated.
The fire swept across the water like a physical fist. Ships directly in the path were reduced to floating pyres in heartbeats. Those on the periphery were capsized by the violent shockwave of superheated air. Even the massive Sea Fox lurched under the pressure, its timbers groaning.
"Shields! Hold the line!" Garo shouted, his eyes wide with a mix of terror and exultation. He didn't know where the beast had come from, but it was hunting his enemies.
Jon, looking down through draconic eyes, banked away from the Sea Fox and sought his next target.
As he unleashed his second volley of flame, he felt the physical limitations of his form. Dragonfire was not an infinite well; it was a biological product. Deep within his chest, a specialized stomach—similar to the multi-chambered organs of a cow—processed fats and oils into a highly volatile, liquid propellant. Once the reservoir was spent, the dragon was limited to tooth and claw until it could eat and rest.
Through the golden haze of his vision, Jon saw himself reflected in the water: a powerful, dual-winged dragon with scales of molten gold and translucent pink wing-membranes. He was a Valyrian Dragon, a true apex predator of this world. Though he looked magnificent, he knew his current form was only that of a juvenile—a "youngster" in the hierarchy of Targaryen legends. Yet, for these pirates, he was a god.
He spiraled toward another galleon, where Pippin of the "Ring Guard" was holding the line. Pippin was a juggernaut in the Valyrian steel-reinforced armor Jon had recovered from the Wall. He fought like a man possessed, his blade a blur as he stabilized collapsing sections of the defense.
"Do you see it?" Pippin's voice boomed, amplified by his helmet's visor. "We are favored by the Gods! You who fight for slavers and butchers—if you continue this madness, you will only find ash!"
Pippin watched the dragon circle. He realized then that this was no random monster; this was Jon's hidden hand. An audacious plan formed in his mind—a gamble to break the pirates' spirit without further blood.
"It is not too late to surrender!" Pippin shouted, his voice reaching a pitch that commanded the entire deck. "The Chainbreakers fight for freedom! You are men bound by the whims of pirate kings—we offer you a different path!"
Pippin reached up and flipped open his visor, revealing his youthful, sweat-streaked face. "I am no high-born knight! I was never anointed with holy oils! I am a man of the people, made strong by Lord Jon's grace! You can be the same!"
"Is it true?" "Look at his armor... he looks like a king's champion..."
The pirates in the rear ranks began to mutter. The sight of the dragon and the promise of a life beyond the lash was a potent cocktail.
"Many of our brothers were once like you!" Pippin pressed his advantage. "One of them even tried to kill Lord Jon—and yet, he was forgiven and fed! Why die for a man who treats you like a dog?"
The mutiny was a sudden, violent thing.
"The Fox only cares for his gold!" "I'm done! I surrender!"
The pirate lieutenants tried to restore order, their swords flashing as they threatened their own men. "Back to your posts, you chameleons! Slay the boy!"
But the "Fox's" heart was already gone.
"Shut your mouth!" a pirate roared, driving his dagger into the back of his lieutenant.
Within minutes, six pirate officers were dead, butchered by the very men they had led. A group of rugged, dark-skinned pirates knelt on the deck, lowering their weapons as they looked up at the golden dragon in the sky.
ROAR—!
Jon shrieked in acknowledgement. His time was running out. He ignored the surrender below and turned his head toward the open sea, searching for the flagship of Letho "Blackfox."
The pirate king was no longer attacking. He was backing away into the mist, realizing that his fleet was becoming a giant roasting spit.